Going to California
For All Nails #190: Going To California by Mike Keating ---- :Alaska/California border :17 May 1898 FN1 :6:30 AM "You've scouted to the south of us, Corporal Vasyutin?" Major Ivan Federov asked the young man standing at attention before him. "Yes, sir. There is a battalion of Mexican soldiers visibly encamped on the other side of the border. They are 1000 feet south of the line. Infantry and artillery both. They seem to be better equipped than we are. I could see steel helmets, sir. Steel!" "Did they see you?" "No, Major, sir, they did not." "How close to the border did you get?" Federov was especially wary of going over the border after what had happened in February. When setting up camp 500 feet north of the line, he had personally checked the map twice. "I was within ten feet by my map, sir." Federov checked the scout's map and discerned that there had not been any border crossing, and then he dismissed the corporal. His aide, Captain Gomez, walked up to him. "Not looking good, sir?" Ivan muttered under his breath at the worsening state of affairs. "No, it isn't," he said more loudly. "Let's head south; I want to see things for myself. I really don't like the way the scout's report sounded." He took a couple minutes to fill Gomez in. Gomez agreed, "You're right. That does sound bad." ---- :6:40 AM Ivan looked through binoculars across the line between the nations. He could see the Mexican soldiers well. He got a good look at their tents, their uniforms, their guns. Vasyutin had been right about the steel helmets. Head shots would be less effective than on his tin-hatted men. The AUSM boots looked to be made better and in better condition. And the condition of the soldiers themselves! How could the Mexicans keep them so well-fed? The ordinary soldiers looked as well-off as himself and Gomez; even the little brown ones looked well-fed (but not as much as their lighter comrades). A couple of officers seemed actually pudgy. It's a good thing I'm the only one here with the binoculars. Not that they were good binoculars; he was sure the Mexicans had better ones. Federov did pass them over to Gomez, however. As his aide got his own look at their potential enemies, Federov wondered whether Vasyutin had gotten a look at the AUSM physical condition. He wondered if Vasyutin had mentioned it to any of the men. If his soldiers began thinking life was better in Mexico, and that even low-ranked soldiers ate decently, how could he count on them? Then he wondered how much his superiors knew of the Mexican army life, and what kind of reaction they'd expect him to have. I've got a Mexican aide, and I haven't made any secret that I think highly of him. None of them do, the prejudiced fools. They’d probably think I'll be disloyal. "Come on, let's head back, Antonio." ---- :9:08 AM Federov heard the commotion coming from the southeast and decided to see what was happening. He had walked about 200 feet when he ran into one of his patrols. The five-man patrol had with them a prisoner. He was brown enough to be obviously Mexican, maybe from Chiapas. He was in civilian clothes, although Federov realized this didn't mean he was no soldier. Ivan addressed the commander of the patrol, "Sergeant Rozhdestvensky, what is going on here?" The sergeant saluted and answered, "Major, sir, we caught this Mexican sneaking south toward the border. He was moving so as to try to avoid being seen. Not well, though. We thought he may be a spy, but he claims he was with a woman." "Ruso pigs! Mexico will eat you for breakfast!" The Mexican was reeling, and spoke with slurred English. He was quite drunk. No wonder he got caught, Ivan thought. "It gets worse, sir. He was in Orlovsk FN2, and the woman he was with sounds like Sergeant Saprykin's wife." Now that was unsettling. The wife of one of his soldiers, having an affair with a Mexican, at the same time as his battalion was operating on what was likely to be the frontline of a war with the USM? No, it was not a happy idea. The opportunity certainly existed; he knew Saprykin had his home in that town and that only officers were allowed to have family live on base at Fort Romanov. Federov scratched his head. "Saprykin is back at base camp. Let's all go back there and let him know about this." When the eight of them got back to the Russian camp, Sergeant Vyacheslav Saprykin turned out to be at his foxhole. "Vyacheslav Vladimirovich, may we have a word with you?" Ivan called down. After Saprykin was told what had transpired, he was livid. That was to be expected. "What is to be done with him?" "Probably put on trial for spying. I must ask you, Sergeant, what have you been telling your wife of our activities?" Saprykin was quick with the answer. "Nothing, sir, often not even where we are operating. I have not been home in a month, sir. I would not have had much chance anyway." As Ivan was pondering who to have guard the Mexican (who had never given his name), a white flash caught his eye. He turned south. Yes, there it was: a white flag fluttering in the breeze. A party of seven Mexican soldiers was coming on horseback. Several of Federov's men raised their rifles, but Ivan waved them off. "Stand down, men; they are coming under flag of truce. Whatever they have in mind, it isn't hostile." The Mexicans rode up to the Russian camp, and Federov walked out to greet them, bringing along a few soldiers. He looked up at the lead horseman, a major like himself. He said in passable English, "Major Ivan Federov, in command of this camp. What can I do for you?" "Major John Hatfield, AUSM. It probably comes as no surprise to you that we've had chances to observe your men via binoculars. I'd bet you're doing the same. Just now we saw you leading into your camp one of my men out of uniform. He has been absent without leave for three days. We would be most interested in speaking with him and extraditing him for military punishment." Federov bit his lip. "Major Hatfield, this soldier of yours has committed crimes here as well. We are currently holding him on illegal entry into the Russian Empire and suspicion of espionage." He wondered how well the second charge would hold; Saprykin had admitted his wife wouldn't have known anything. But was he telling the truth? Could he afford to let this man back into Mexico when he might hold information on Russian movements? Could not turning him over be one more provocation toward war? He remembered his doubts about Russia's ability to win any war with Mexico. Avoiding such a war, then, was a desirable objective. It also occurred to Ivan that when found, the Mexican had been drunk. How much information might he be able to recall to his superiors? If thoroughly searched first for anything written down, he would have to rely on his inebriated mind. Hopefully when he sobered up, he wouldn't recall enough if he was a spy. Ivan arrived at a decision. "Major, we would be willing to return this man to you. Would noon at the border suffice?" Hatfield replied that this would be good. ---- :12:00 PM Federov stood at the borderline with a party of ten men and the Mexican prisoner. Saprykin had asked to come along, and it had seemed a reasonable request. The sergeant seemed to be angrier with his wife than with the prisoner. Hatfield rode up with ten of his own men. "Major Hatfield. Unfortunate we are seeing each other under these circumstances." "I agree, Major Federov. I see you have Corporal Ramirez with you." Federov felt glad to finally know his prisoner's name. Hatfield turned to address Ramirez. "Corporal, you have been most troublesome ever since you were assigned to me. Major, this is not his first disciplinary problem. I intend to make it his last." "Just a moment, please, Major Hatfield." Federov looked to see who had spoken. It was Saprykin. "While he was on the Russian side of the line, this man claims to have had an affair with my wife. His tale contains enough facts to be believed." With this, Saprykin's face suddenly contorted with rage, and he leaped upon Ramirez and began punching his face repeatedly. Federov and two Russians pulled him off as Ramirez swung at them all. The wronged husband and the adulterer traded obscenities for a minute. Federov stepped between them. "Enough of this!" he yelled. "Our nations may be close to war, but I would like us to behave as civilized men, even when we are enemies." He caught a flash of admiration in his opposite number's face. Saprykin nodded. "My apologies, sir. I have an idea more along those lines." It was then that Ivan saw the Russian sergeant was wearing gloves even though it was not cold enough to need them. Saprykin took one off, walked up to Ramirez, and slapped him with it. "You, sir, have insulted my honor. I demand satisfaction." Hatfield moved over to Federov and looked him in the eye honestly. "What do you think? Should we permit our men to participate in this duel? Dueling is pretty rare now in both of our countries." "I guess if we don't, one or both of them may continue the rivalry violently. This'd cause more incidents. If we settle it honorably, we can settle it for good and worry about the bigger picture," Federov mused. Hatfield nodded. "Sensible reasoning. I like you, Federov. A pity I'm likely to have to go into battle against you someday soon." The duel was agreed to be at ten paces, and a flip of a centavo determined Ivan would officiate. Both commanders loaned their service pistols, since the Mexican was unarmed and the Russian only had his rifle. The two rivals stood back to back as he began to count. "One. Two. Three. Four-” Ivan caught a blur of motion, and his counting stopped abruptly as Saprykin whirled around, aimed, and fired in one swift motion. Ramirez fell over, dead before he hit the ground. From where he was standing, Ivan could see the bullet had gone in the back of his head and blown open the forehead. The reaction of the Mexicans was immediate. All of them but Hatfield aimed their own rifles and fired. Saprykin appeared to take three rounds in the chest and was killed. Federov didn't really blame them; his man had just committed a dishonorable act of murder. But two other Russians had been hit. The rest of the Russian party fired back. Four Mexicans fell. Federov dropped to the ground as he realized he was unarmed. Neither he nor Hatfield had been carrying anything besides their pistols. Neither one of them was in position to retrieve his. Do I really want to go to war over an philanderer and a cuckolded, treacherous sergeant? Both sides had found cover and were taking time to reload. No. No, I don't. Ivan stood up, braving Mexican fire, and stretched his arms out. "CEASE FIRE!!" he bellowed. It was a miracle he'd been able to get the whole sentence out without being hit. It was an even bigger miracle the Russian troops all had heard, considering the noise. "Enough. We are not going to war over this." As he spoke, he saw that on either side of the border, troops were rushing forward, hearing that battle had been joined. Then he heard his counterpart screaming out orders in English. They were also stand-down commands. Ivan turned toward his approaching troops and held up his hand for them to stop. Then he turned to survey the scene. Only four Russians and five Mexicans were still standing, counting the two majors. Each side had one wounded man being tended to. "Major Hatfield," he said, "you must have had the same thoughts as me. I don't want a war. I definitely don't want a war over this. But I will go to war if ordered to do so, and I will fight to the best of my ability for my country." Hatfield nodded. "I couldn't have said it better myself. You'd make a formidable opponent. If we do go to war, Federov, I'll be proud to fight against the likes of you." The Mexican major saluted, and then turned back toward his camp. After a moment, Ivan headed toward his. ---- Forward to FAN #191: Mail Call. Forward to 6 August 1898 (Great Northern War): Never Give Up, Never Surrender!. Return to For All Nails. Category: Great Northern War